​​H E R M E N E U T I C   C H A O S   J O U R N A L


What Can Be Known of the Past is Colorless as Footfalls and Feverish

                  Half-liquid in a rootless voicing of wind, winter squirrels 
have been searching all day for their hidden caches of nuts—    

          If I remember my childhood, I remember 
a similar snake to the one my father killed 

with a stick in the potato patch when I was four.    
           I think back to the goldfinches on the clothesline

and the reptile is gone. I read the word snake in a yellowed letter
to a friend, and there, 

three-foot long, is its erstwhile body. That my life supposes 
lexicons and desserts appears to be true.    

         Objectively, I know I turned five
because of a trace of cinnamon tea real as a sneeze, 

fainter than my collar embroidered in cherries,
but more resolute than Beethoven in the chair beside me.    

         I have the power to revive 
the bachelor's buttons lining the path from back door to road,    

          and some days I write into the plot 
a daddy long-legs as a friend, six-eyed and quivering.

All my life, I have known I was nine 
in relation to the shut door with the note I wrote 

rendering my rules of entry. 

Lynn Schmeidler's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Night Train, SLAB, Saw Palm, Room, and Opium magazines, Drawn to Marvel: Poems from the Comic Books (Minor Arcana Press), Mischief, Caprice and Other Poetic Strategies (Red Hen Press) and Out of Sequence: The Sonnets Remixed (Parlor Press). Her poetry chapbook, Curiouser & Curiouser won the 2013 Grayson Books Chapbook Contest.